Older and Wiser
by deangirl1
Summary: When a prank war gets out of hand it pays to have experience on your side. Teenchester.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em. I thank Kripke for the loan of his toys.

**A/N:** I wrote this quite a while ago for a challenge on Ungen. As it is almost the end of summer camp season, it felt appropriate to post here now…

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You could have cut the tension in the car with a machete. One pissed off fifteen year old glared at his brother from the back seat. The nineteen year old glared straight ahead out the windshield. The forty-two year old glared at the road unfolding before him and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

"I mean it boys," he ground out. "This stops _now_. Bobby needs our help with a few things, and I will not have you pranking each other in his house or embarrassing me on a job. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Dean's response was automatic and automatically respectful.

Silence came from the back seat.

"SAM!" John barked. "Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

"Yes, sir." Somehow Sam managed to be sulky, whiny and almost not quite respectful all at the same time.

And there was no way that Sam could just leave it there.

"Are you going to punish him, then?"

"WHAT?"

John sighed. Here they went again.

"I'm friggin' _bald_, Dean! I've never done anything that permanent to you! If I can't get my own back, Dad should punish you." Sam's voice rose and cracked slightly with the force of his emotions.

"Purple teeth ringin' any bells, little brother? And all my underwear, and I mean ALL of it, is bright friggin' PINK!" Dean spit back.

"ENOUGH!"

John ground his teeth together and fought for control. He knew this was just one of the inevitable outcomes of spending so much time cooped up in a small space together. It was also the inevitable outcome of being brothers and hunters in arms. The boys pranking was a way for them to bond, blow off steam, and hone their hunting skills. The benefit to their hunting skills was one of the few reasons that John allowed the pranking at all. That and the fact that the pranks themselves were often, he had to admit to himself, pretty funny.

John glared in the rear view mirror at his youngest. He caught himself with just a twitch of his lips before he started to grin at the sight of the skull cap Sammy had firmly crammed on his head. None of the usual long strands of hair stuck out from beneath it.

John had to admit that Dean had been inspired with that one. Not only did it solve the problem of trying to get Sam to get a haircut, it also effectively removed Sam's biggest vanity.

But the mirth quickly faded when John remembered how close he had come to borrowing Sam's shampoo that morning. THAT would have been far from funny. No. When innocent people were starting to wander into the battleground, it was time to call a halt to the war.

"Let it go Sam. We'll be at Bobby's in an hour, and there is to be no more funny business. I hope that I am making myself clear."

"Yes, sir." This time both boys answered in unison.

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John liked to have the boys help do chores whenever they stayed with Bobby. Bobby had always been very generous with opening his home to the Winchesters and helping John with research and on hunts. Getting the boys to help out was a simple way to say thanks. This visit, John had an extra reason to have the boys help out. Punishment.

John and Bobby had gone out to get supplies and check a lead on the current hunt. Bobby had discovered that a nasty poltergeist had taken up residence in a warehouse in the town next to where he lived. The warehouse was just a bit too big to be a one man job for the exorcism.

John had volunteered Dean for yard duty and Sam for house duty. John deemed it safest to keep the walls of the house between the boys to remove the temptation of them re-starting the prank war hostilities.

When the two older hunters made it back to Bobby's, they found the house essentially empty. Dean was apparently out in the garage tinkering on the Impala. John assumed that Sam was in his room studying.

John and Bobby made their way into the kitchen with the supplies to start preparing some hex bags. Sam had done a good job of cleaning up the house and had even baked some brownies. The boys must have buried the hatchet long enough to share a snack as by the time John and Bobby came along, there were only two large brownies left.

"Now this is the reason that I put up with your ugly mug," Bobby sighed and grabbed one of the brownies.

"And here I just like yours to punish the boys," John laughed back and grabbed the other brownie.

"Well. I guess it's the thought that counts," Bobby said," But I have to admit that wasn't the best brownie I've ever eaten."

"Yeah, well, believe it or not, Dean is actually the cook of the family. It's never really been Sam's forte, and as I told Dean to stay out of the house, I assume we can thank Sam for these." John made a face. The brownie had had a bit of an aftertaste.

"I don't remember stocking up on chocolate, so maybe it was a bit old," Bobby mused. "Get you a beer to wash it down?"

"Sure," John readily agreed.

Grabbing the beers out of the fridge, Bobby popped the lids and handed one to John, moving with the other hunter to the table to begin work on the hex bags. They'd just settled down when a hellish racket started up in the yard. Both their heads shot up and they looked at each other.

"What the hell?" Bobby ground out.

As one, they moved to the front door but found it locked or blocked from the outside.

"C'mon! We'll have to go out the back."

Sam appeared in the doorway.

"Dad! You're back!"

"Yeah. Stay put. Something's up." John ordered as he and Bobby made for the other door.

The back door wasn't blocked, but the two hunters were now wary. Stealthily, they made their way out onto the small porch at the back. Initially they hugged the house, scouring the yard for any sign of an intruder or danger of any kind. Seeing none, they moved as one to the edge of the porch and that's when the world tilted.

Suddenly the porch tilted downward, turning into some kind of huge evil slide, dumping the two hunters into the yard. And into a huge, waiting mound of dog crap. Their momentum ensured that they slid through the fecal matter, smearing it thoroughly all over themselves.

"WHAT THE HELL!" Bobby yelled.

"SONUVABITCH!" John shouted.

"Oh shit!" Dean breathed in dismay from his place in hiding inside the garage doors.

"DEAN!" John bellowed. This prank had his oldest son written all over it. And sure enough as he skulked out of the garage, he had guilt written all over his face. He came to a stop in front of his shit-covered father and their equally shitty friend. Both men glowered at him. Dean's eyes bore a hole in the earth at their feet.

"What did I say about the pranking?"

"That it had to stop."

"So long as we're clear. You will do mine and Bobby's laundry. You will clean both of Bobby's bathrooms. You will clean up every remaining pile of Rumfeld's crap. And right now, you will run 50 laps of the scrap yard."  
"Aw, Dad. It wasn't meant for you two. It was meant for Sam."

"Don't care Dean. You disobeyed a direct order. GO!"

Sam grinned when he saw Dean take off running.

"Sam. You can count Dean's laps. Make sure he does every last one of those 50 while Bobby and I get cleaned up."

"No problem, Dad," Sam smirked and settled into a comfortable position on the porch. He was going to enjoy each and every one of those laps.

After they'd showered, Bobby got some dinner together while John continued to organize the supplies. They'd get the boys to help finish the bags after supper, and then he and Bobby would cleanse the warehouse that night while no one was around.

Dean slammed into the house about 10 minutes before supper and ran to have a quick shower before the meal as he was dripping with sweat.

"Sam, can you set the table, please," John asked as the teen came into the room.

"Sure," Sam agreed.

Just as he was finishing laying out the cutlery, Sam stopped and gaped at the table.

"Um. Did you guys see those brownies?"

"Yeah. Thanks. They were pretty good," Bobby responded.

"You ate them both?"

"Yeah, sorry. We figured you and Dean must have already had yours." John said.

"Oh. Um. No problem…" Sam mumbled, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"We're ready here…" Bobby started dishing up supper.

They had decided to go to the warehouse at about midnight, so they had lots of time to finish their preparations while the boys cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.

The boys had just finished when Bobby started to look a bit pale.

"You feeling alright?" John asked.

"Not really," Bobby said uncomfortably. "Must be something I ate, maybe."

And then he suddenly pushed back from the table and sprinted for the bathroom. Well, maybe not sprinted. More like penguin walked as fast as he could while pulling his cheeks together as tightly as possible.

Meanwhile, John suddenly looked thoughtful. Then uncomfortable. And then was following Bobby's example and sending a word of thanks to the powers that be that Bobby had more than one bathroom.

Sam watched in horror as the two older hunters left. His discomfort only increased as he could hear the noises of _their _discomfort.

Dean looked shrewdly at his brother.

"What did you do?" he asked quietly.

"Brownies."

"Laxitives?"

"Un-huh."

"Classic man." Dean smirked appreciatively. "You are so dead."

"Didn't Dad say you had to clean the bathrooms?" It was Sam's turn to smirk.

"I'm thinking there may be a revision to the to do list, Sammy."

As it turned out, they both ended up on latrine duty.

It was a full 24 hours before either John or Bobby felt they could safely leave the house. There was ample opportunity for both boys to get some quality cleaning in.

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Some two weeks after what became known as the "brownie-incident", the Winchesters found themselves heading back to Bobby's.

"So why does Bobby need our help?" Dean asked.

"He thinks he's got a line on a Wendigo, and he wants our help." John explained from his place behind the wheel.

"So camping?" Dean was not happy.

"Looks like it." John affirmed.

"I hate camping." Dean huffed.

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Two days later found the group hiking into the woods of Custer State Park. Bobby figured it would take them a day and a half to hike in to where some campers had gone missing. There was a system of caves there that were a likely lair for a Wendigo. Because of the time it had taken to get to the park, they would do a half day hike the first day.

They had been hiking for about an hour when they came upon a lake. There were a bunch of cabins on the shores, and much to Dean's interest, there were a bunch of girls in the cabins.

"What's the deal, Bobby?" Dean asked.

"It's a Girl Scout retreat camp," the older hunter explained.

"Sweet," Dean breathed appreciatively.

Sam simply rolled his eyes. Of course, he also used those eyes to scope out the counsellors himself. Sam was still shy around girls, but that didn't mean he wasn't interested.

"Keep going boys. We're here to do a job." John interrupted their thoughts.

They pressed on for another two hours before stopping to set up camp for the night.

They soon had two tents set up and a fire going. After a quick supper, they sat around the fire discussing strategy.

"Damn it!" Dean snarked slapping at yet another mosquito.

"Did you put bug spray on?" Sam asked condescendingly.

"Yeah. They seem to think it's the appetizer." Dean barked back.

"Why do we always end up camping at the worst possible time of the year?" Dean whined.

"Is there a good time?" Sam added.

"Too true, little brother. It's all bugs in the summer and all cold and wet in the winter."

"Two tough hunters, you are," John laughed.

"Hey, give me a nice salt and burn with a warm motel bed waiting for me any night!" Dean replied.

Bobby had volunteered to clean up after supper and was returning from the stream with a bucket of water. Just as he got up to the camp site, his foot caught on a root and the bucket flew out of his hands spilling all of its contents.

On the boys.

"Damn it, Bobby!" Dean sputtered jumping up and trying in vain to shake the water off his clothes.

Sam was sitting in a sodden, miserable heap where he'd been doused.

"Geez, Bobby," Sam managed.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry boys! You'd better get out of those clothes. Give them to me and I'll hang them up around the fire. They'll be dry by morning."

Muttering darkly, Dean grabbed the duffle with their spare set of clothing and ducked into his and Sam's tent, closely followed by his brother.

John and Bobby waited by the fire. Voices were soon raised within the tent.

"Where are the other clothes?"

"I put them in there, Dean. Stop fooling around. I'm freezing."

"Well, take a look Einstein. Do you see anything in there that resembles clothes? There's two sets of boxers and that's it!"

"Did you take them out to put in more weapons?"

"NO! _You_ had the damn bag last."

John and Bobby exchanged looks.

"Everything ok, boys?" John asked.

"NO!" Dean spat out. "_Somebody_ didn't pack the spare clothes."

"Did _so_!"

"Never mind that now. Just hand me out your clothes and crawl into your sleeping bags to keep warm. We'll see you in the morning."

Accompanied by much grumbling, two hands shot out with two sets of clothing.

"I can't _believe_ I'm going to bed when it's still almost light out," was the final comment they heard from Dean.

The night was split by a bloodcurdling scream. Within seconds the two young hunters were scrambling out of their tent.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam was frantically scanning the camp site for their father and Bobby. There was no sign of them.

Dean ducked back into the tent for a weapon, only to find that their duffle was gone.

Dean next checked for their clothes. They could see where the remnants of the fire were, but there were no clothes in evidence. In fact, the only thing left of their camp site was the tent and sleeping bags they'd been in and their boots.

"Where are Dad and Bobby? Our clothes?" Sam whirled in a circle, taking in the same information as his brother.

"Put your boots on, Sammy."

They'd better be ready to run because that was about their only defence at the moment.

They'd only just gotten their boots on when there was another scream and the sounds of something big blundering through the woods headed directly for them.

"Shit, Sammy! Run!"

Dean headed in the direction of the car. Luckily the _thing_, whatever it was, seemed to be coming from the opposite direction. If it was the Wendigo, Dean knew they were screwed.

"Dean? Sam?" John's voice floated through the woods. It was ahead of them and slightly to the right. The boys adjusted course to head towards the sound of their father.

Dean managed to notice that the first tendrils of dawn were snaking across the sky, which was the only thing preventing them from running headlong into the trees of the forest.

Sam ran with his brother, his breath wheezing in his throat. Bushes and branches scratched and tore at them. Whatever was chasing them, at least it wasn't catching up.

Sam stumbled, but was prevented from going down by Dean's strong arm catching his and hauling him bodily onto his feet.

And still they ran on. The sun came up and the bugs came out in full force.

And then suddenly, they were breaking free of the trees and stumbling into a clearing by the lake. By a group of cabins. And all of the Girl Scouts were pouring out to make their way to breakfast. All of the female campers. They'd found their way back to the all girls camp. And all the girls were suddenly staring at them.

Sam realized it first. When Dean saw how red his brother's face was, he suddenly realized that Sam wasn't just red because of the exertion of their headlong flight out of the woods. Sam's face was scratched. He had bug bites in plenty. But in fact, his face was red because he was blushing. He was blushing because he was standing in the middle of an all girls camp dressed in his boots and his boxers and not a damn thing else.

The next thought that came to Dean was that he was dressed exactly the same. His biker boots and his boxers. His bright pink boxers that were giving Sam's cheeks a run for their money.

There was sudden silence as all eyes turned towards the two interlopers. Then it started small but built quickly from the first small giggle to out and out tears-streaming-down-the-face laughter.

By the time the girls really got going, Dean had regained some kind of composure.

"Shit, Sammy! Run!" and with that, Dean was off again for the Impala.

It didn't take long for them to realize that the only sound following them was the laughter of the girls. There were no more ominous noises coming from the wilderness, so the boys slowed to a walk. Unfortunately, they were now sweating freely and this only served to attract more bugs. Bugs that had a smorgasbord of fresh, naked skin to feast on.

As they walked, a suspicion started to grow in Dean's mind.

"You really didn't take our clothes out of that bag, did you Sammy?"

"I told you I didn't, Dean."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't you think we should go back?"

"Back?"

"To find Dad and Bobby."

"Trust me, Sam. I'd bet the Impala that they're fine."

Sure enough, when the two young hunters finally emerged from the woods to where they'd parked the Impala, they found their father and Bobby leaning up against the Impala with big grins on their face.

Dean turned to his brother.

"Dude? From now on, we band together. No more pranks on each other. We're gonna save our best stuff…"

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**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed…? And, yeah, that last line is a little shout out to Jensen and Jared…


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